


if you're bleeding from the heart

by asexualrey



Series: the bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Guilt, Little bit of Fluff, Major Character Injury, but not too much, keith doesn't know how to deal with emotions, this is a stand-alone, you don't need to read the series first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualrey/pseuds/asexualrey
Summary: Keith’s impulsiveness has never had dire consequences before—at least not ones that affect anybody but him.So when a split-second decision changes one of his teammate’s lives, he doesn’t know what to do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompts: _one of the paladins (you choose) gets so badly injured that another paladin (you also choose) starts to doubt their, and everyone else's choice in joining the team_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hi can i please maybe request some "Pidge protects their teammate (you can choose which one) by taking hit meant for them and gets badly injured"? Thank you so much!_

 

Keith had heard Shiro yelling in his earpiece. He heard Lance and Allura and Pidge and Hunk, too. But he didn’t listen. That’s nothing new. He usually doesn’t. 

Shiro’s told him before that he needs to think more before he acts. Instincts are good, and it’s important to rely on them, but you have to use to your head too. He’d kind of written off those lectures, filed them away in the back of his mind. His instincts had never steered him wrong before. And isn’t the Red Lion’s pilot supposed to rely on them? Isn’t he supposed to be impulsive? He’d always thought so.

He’d always thought so. 

“What was that? Keith? Keith, what’s going on? _What was that, Keith_?!” 

Shiro’s yelling, screaming. His voice wrenches up an octave, straining with desperation. 

Keith can’t even breathe. 

The ground beneath him is scorching despite being wet. He can feel it soaking into his gloves. 

“What’s happening, Keith?”

That’s Lance. He doesn’t sound as scared as Shiro, but there’s still an abundance of fear in his voice. Unlike Shiro’s, his sounds confused and uncertain. 

Hunk and Allura are chiming in now too, alarmed by Keith’s lack of response, but it’s all background noise. 

It’s all just background noise. He can hardly hear them. He can hear blood rushing, pounding in his ears along with the residual ringing, and he can hear his own breath rasping in and out of his throat. 

Most prominently, though, he can hear the cut-off scream and the horrendous crash echoing inside his skull.

“Pidge…?” His voice is weak and shaky, doesn’t rise above a breathy whisper. 

Pidge isn’t moving. 

The series of things that just transpired don’t seem to be processing in his brain very well. It happened so fast…

And then Pidge’s finger twitches. A low groan reaches Keith’s ears.

It’s as if he was shocked. He’s suddenly on his feet, sprinting so hard across the rubble that he trips over nothing, doesn’t even feel the sharp rocks cut into his palms through his ruined gloves. 

“Pidge!” His knees hit the ground hard beside the green paladin’s tiny form. His hands shake as they reach out without knowing their intent. “Pidge! _Hey!_ Are you okay? Can you—can you hear me? Say something!”

He’s terrified to touch her. She’s sprawled out on her stomach, limbs akimbo. There’s no further response. 

Keith’s hands come up to his head and grip the sides of his helmet. The sight of his comrade blurs before his eyes. “Wh-what do I do? What should I do?”

“Calm down, Keith!” Shiro’s voice, steadier than it had been moments ago, comes through his earpiece again. “Calm down. Breathe.”

Keith tries. He pulls air in and out of his lungs raggedly, but it doesn’t calm the racing of his heart or his panic. 

“Now talk to me,” Shiro says, slowly and deliberately. “What _happened_?”

He feels moisture running down his face, but he can’t be sure if it’s blood, sweat, or tears. “Pidge, she… Th-there was an explosion and she… She’s trapped. There’s a—there’s a beam on top of her.”

He can feel the shock through the comm link. 

After a brief moment, Shiro speaks up again. “Is she hurt?”

Keith licks his lips, swallows past the dryness in his throat. It feels coated with dust. “Yeah. She’s unconscious. Shiro, what do I do?”

He hates how _young_ he sounds, how helpless and fearful. He’s usually not any of those things. Even when overcome with terror, he’s always been able to turn it into anger and determination, or ignore it altogether. But now, looking at Pidge’s small, unmoving body, all his bravado has abandoned him. He can’t move, can’t think. 

It would be different if it were Lance or Hunk or, hell, even Shiro. But it’s _Pidge._ Pidge is strong. She can definitely hold her own; Keith’s seen her do it. But she’s still so…so _small_. No one has said it, but there’s an innate need in all of them to protect her. Even though she’s far from helpless or in need of protecting. Maybe it’s because she’s the youngest of them, but he’s noticed it—felt it before. He knows Shiro feels it most of all. 

There’s a mass of rage somewhere deep inside Keith, not strong enough for him to call on, but it will grow to consume him later. For now it’s dulled by shock and fear and sick, nauseating guilt, but it’s definitely there. 

This is going to hit the entire team harder than maybe anything has before. 

“Don’t panic, Keith,” Shiro says. How he keeps his voice so steady and strong, even with the breathlessness of running and fighting, is a mystery. “We’re on our way. Don’t move her, just wait for me to get there.”

Keith exhales a huge breath. He’s been breathing too fast. But Shiro’s coming, and that’s a huge relief. 

The wreckage of the explosion burns and smolders around him. The tangy, acrid scent of smoke burns his throat and the inside of his nose and he’s starting to feel the effects of what’s probably a head injury. A mild one, most likely. The cuts on his hands sting and his ears still ring with the blast.

He deserves much worse than that.

This is all his fault. 

He sits on his feet and doesn’t move until the rest of the team arrives. By then, everything’s kind of hazy. The colors of his teammates come swarming in and for the first time Keith gets a taste of how prisoners and oppressed groups must see them when they come to the rescue. Almost like superheroes. 

Shiro gives him a worried look and must see the daze he’s fallen into, because he tells Lance to take care of him and hurries over to where Pidge is lying. Keith hears him call to her, ask if she can hear him, and then he turns around to shout for Hunk. 

Lance kneels in front of him. “Are you hurt? Keith? Keith—you in there, buddy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. 

Lance frowns in a very un-Lance-like way. “Can you take your helmet off?”

Keith does, and his temples throb. 

Lance performs several tests, checking for a concussion. He must not be pleased with the conclusion he comes to, because he frowns and puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and tells him not to worry, that they’ll handle everything from here on out. 

Keith looks past the blue paladin to where his other two teammates are lifting up the beam. He should feel relieved that it’s off of Pidge now, but all he can think about is the fact that it took the two strongest paladins’ combined effort to lift it. Pidge is so small…

Shiro is leaning over her now, placing a hand on the side of her face and yelling to wake her up. She doesn’t respond. Keith sees him turn away, say something into his comm, probably asking Allura and Coran what to do. A few seconds later, he nods and gives some instruction to Hunk. Keith can’t hear what they’re saying. Hunk comes back some time later with a plank from the wreckage and then Shiro’s calling for Lance. 

Keith just sits uselessly on his knees, listening to the persistent ringing in his right ear. He wants to get up. He wants to help, but he can’t move. 

They roll Pidge onto the plank so, _so_ carefully, with Shiro holding her head so it stays aligned with her body. Keith knows what this means, in the back of his mind. His breathing speeds up until his chest is heaving a mile a minute; he’s hyperventilating, but he has no control. He’s going to have a full-blown panic attack before too long. 

Then Lance is there again beside him. His hands are on his shoulders and he’s saying, “Keith, _breathe!_ It’s okay, just breathe with me.”

Keith tries. He watches Lance inhale and exhale slowly and does his best to mimic the pattern. It’s hard—at first his throat is too tight to pull in a deep breath—but gradually the firm band around his chest starts to loosen and he’s able to pull larger quantities of air into his lungs. As his breathing begins to even out, so does his heartbeat, and soon the edges of panic are ebbing a bit. 

“Good, that’s good,” Lance says. “You okay?”

Keith hesitates. He’s really not, but he needs to be, so he nods. 

“Alright. Let’s get you back to the castle.”

Keith absently wonders when Lance had acquired such a calming, in-control presence. It’s actually pretty impressive. 

He’s hauled slowly to his feet and is surprised when his legs hold his weight, even if his balance is a little off. Lance pulls an arm over his shoulder and together they make their way toward the Lions. Ahead of them, Shiro and Hunk are slowly and cautiously making their way with the plank suspended between them. Pidge looks tiny lying on it, unnervingly limp and motionless. Keith’s chest constricts again. He’s not looking forward to later, when his head is clearer and the weight of what has just transpired crashes into him and the guilt really takes hold. When the rest of the team will ask him what happened, and he’ll have to tell them.

Suddenly he’s doubling over and heaving a thin stream of vomit onto the battle-scored ground. Lance stops walking immediately and tightens the grip around his waist. Thankfully it doesn’t last long—he retches a few times and then straightens up again, dragging the back of his hand along his mouth and nodding when Lance asks again if he’s okay, and then they continue on. 

They put Pidge on the Black Lion. Keith stays with Lance on Blue. They pick up the Green Lion, and Hunk picks up Red, and then they’re finally heading back to the castle. Shiro takes the longest to get there, unsurprisingly. They watch as he flies at an agonizingly slow pace, trying so desperately to keep Black steady so as not to jostle their injured teammate. Lance and Hunk try to get Keith to go on to the infirmary, but he wants to make sure Shiro and Pidge get boarded safely. It’s the least he can do. 

When they’ve finally docked, Lance takes Keith by the arm gently and leads him to the med-bay where Allura and Coran are waiting to receive patients. He doesn’t put up a fight as he changes into the cryo-suit and is guided into a pod, where he’s wrapped up in a blissfully deep sleep and forgets about everything. 

 

—

 

He’d hoped that maybe his emotions would have settled by the time he exits the pod, with no traces of a headache or any injuries at all, but as soon as he opens his eyes and sees Hunk, Lance, and Shiro gazing at him hopefully, he feels sick to his stomach. 

He stumbles out of the pod in a cloud of steam and there are hands ready to support him as he shakes off the post-cryo queasiness. 

“Feeling better?” Shiro asks with a tiny, relieved smile. 

Keith nods, but it’s only a half-truth. Physically he feels fine, aside from the shakiness that comes from being in stasis. Mentally…well, that’s another matter. 

Without giving them permission, his eyes glance up at the pods. His stomach turns nauseatingly when he sees her. Pidge looks far, far too small suspended in cryosleep. But at least she looks peaceful. If it seemed like she was in pain Keith isn’t sure how he would handle it.

“She’ll be okay, right?” he asks. 

“Yeah, of course,” Lance says. “The pod’ll fix her right up.”

Keith looks to Shiro for confirmation. When the Black Paladin meets his eyes, though, he doesn’t see certainty or hope there. He sees something he can’t quite identify, but it sends a chill through him. Shiro only smiles gently and says, “She’ll be okay.”

That doesn’t make Keith feel better.

But at least… At least she’s healing. She’s in a magic pod that can revive people from near death. They all know exactly where she’d been hit, but surely the pod can take care of it. Everything will be fine. 

No one tries to hold a conversation with him until he’s changed back into his own clothes and is tucking into a bowl of food goo in the kitchen. He knows the questions are coming, and it makes his stomach turn, but he also knows he owes them all an explanation. And maybe…maybe he’ll feel better if he gets yelled at. 

When he’s eaten all he can stomach (which probably isn’t enough to replenish his body after cryo), he pushes his bowl back and braces his hands on the edge of the table. 

Allura is the first to speak, and her voice is surprisingly gentle and undemanding. “Keith, what happened? From what I understood, the mission was going well.”

“It _was_.” His hands clench. “We’d gotten our sector evacuated. There weren’t many sentries left.” 

Shiro, sitting in the chair beside his, leans forward ever so slightly. In his peripherals, he can tell that Lance and Hunk both stiffen as well, eager and yet apprehensive to hear how their youngest teammate got so spectacularly injured. 

Keith closes his eyes, steeling himself for his next words. He has to take responsibility for this. “It was my fault.”

He hears Shiro make a noise of surprise. “Keith—”

“It _was_ my fault, Shiro.” He pulls in a shaky breath. “The—I don’t think Pidge knew, but the pavilion was coming down anyway from the earthquakes. The sentries chased me under it. Pidge followed—she didn’t know what I was doing. There wasn’t time to tell her. I used one of those detonators Coran gave us a while back. It wasn’t—we should’ve been far enough away, but the ground—”

Coran pulls in a sharp breath. “The ground is combustible when it comes in contact with our explosives.”

“ _What_?” Shiro snaps, whirling on the Altean man. “And you didn’t think to _mention that_?”

Coran bristles. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to that planet! I can’t remember _everything_. And besides, I certainly didn’t think anyone was going to go around using _bombs_!”

The sour guilt curls tighter around Keith’s stomach. “It wasn’t Coran’s fault.”

Shiro huffs out a loud breath, distress written all over his face. Keith guesses he knows exactly where this story is headed. “I’m sorry. Keith, please continue.”

Keith takes a few steadying breaths. “The explosion knocked us back. I was pretty out of it and I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I heard Pidge yelling at me to move. And I—I couldn’t. She pushed me.” He lowers his eyes to his lap, too ashamed to look up at his teammates. “I didn’t even see the beam falling until it was on top of her.”

The silence that permeates the room is thick and debilitating, suffocating as everyone takes in the information. Keith waits for them to process it fully, realize just how badly he screwed up.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Shiro shifts a little. “Keith…”

“I’m sorry. I messed up.” He draws his hands into his lap and clenches them into fists. “You can—”

Coran jolts suddenly, clutching some holographic device in his hand. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, not sounding all that sorry. “But I just got a notice. Pidge’s pod is opening.”

Shiro is on his feet immediately. “What?”

“It’s been, like, a day,” Hunk says. “Isn’t it too soon?”

“Not according to this.” Coran taps his device with an index finger, like it will explain anything.

Shiro suddenly sprints out of the mess hall, and the rest of them aren’t far behind. Keith doesn’t ever remember them moving collectively this quickly through the castle before.

He enters the infirmary on Shiro’s heels and they all crowd around the hissing pod that contains Pidge’s small form. Keith’s breath halts in his throat when the pod opens—it feels like they’re all holding their breaths. He doesn’t know why everyone seems so nervous. 

Pidge tumbles out of the chamber ungracefully, but Shiro is there to catch her. His arms encircle her shoulders gingerly, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll break her. Slowly, they sink onto the floor and Shiro pulls her against his broad chest. “Pidge?”

She opens her eyes with a quiet groan. Her gaze falls first to Shiro, squinting in the absence of her glasses, and then sweeps over the rest of the crowd towering over her. Confusion is plain in her groggy expression. 

When she doesn’t say anything, Shiro nudges her gently. “You in there, Pidge?”

She blinks, glancing between the black paladin and the rest of her teammates. “Shiro…? Guys?” 

Lance drops into a crouch and smiles. Keith wonders if anyone else notices that his mannerisms are softer, more careful than usual. “Hey there. Good to have you back.”

“We missed you, Pidge,” Hunk says with a gentle smile. 

She puts a hand to her head. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Allura says.

“I remember…” She looks around aimlessly for a beat before her gaze lands on Keith and a light seems to turn on. “Keith and I were on a mission. I remember evacuating the townspeople, and then…” She rubs at her forehead. “Was there an explosion?”

Keith has the sudden urge to run, to leave the room so he won’t have to hear anyone explain that she was hurt because of his stupid decision, but he forces himself to stay. 

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “You were injured, but we brought you back to the castle. You’ve been in a cryopod for just over twenty-four hours now. Are you—” He pauses, very briefly, but Keith picks up on it and it turns his stomach upside-down. “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Pidge doesn’t answer immediately. She looks down at her body, curls and uncurls her fists a few times, and takes several deep breaths. “I feel…kind of achy, but I think I’m okay.”

“You need some food.” Lance’s cheery tone makes Keith feel a little lighter. He leans over and clasps both hands over Hunk’s shoulders. “Hunk makes the best post-pod snacks.”

Shiro still seems concerned, but smiles warmly. “Can you stand? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He shifts onto his knees and takes her hands. 

Pidge scoots a bit and makes to get up, but then she freezes. Her eyes go wide. “Shiro, I—”

“What’s the matter?” Shiro freezes too, and leans forward with a look of deep worry crossing his face. “What’s wrong?”

Keith wants to be sick. 

“My legs.” Pidge frees one hand from Shiro’s grasp and places it on her thigh. The confusion on her face is quickly morphing into panic. “I can barely feel them.”

 

—

 

A stunned silence had followed Pidge’s words. Shiro’s quiet, bewildered, “What?” had been the only thing to break it. Keith had frozen to the spot, unable to do anything except watch the fear grow on his younger teammate’s face as she tried to move her legs with barely any success. 

It had taken a while before anyone could move on from the shock, but then it quickly turned to disbelief and outrage. 

“The pods…they should’ve fixed her. Right?” Hunk had said with mounting panic, looking frantically between Allura and Coran and the rest of the paladins. “ _Right_?”

At the silence that followed the question, all eyes turned to Coran. He had a dark look on his face, as if deep in thought. When he spoke, however, his voice was deceptively lighthearted. “Shiro, bring her into the next room. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

With a nod of consent, Shiro had scooped up the youngest paladin and stood slowly, making sure she was comfortably situated before following Coran to the exam room. 

They’re all standing around the table Pidge is seated on now, watching wordlessly and anxiously while the redheaded Altean performs tests. He’s hooked her up to a machine with devices that look like electrodes clinging to her legs and back and is uncharacteristically silent and serious as he pores over the data the machine is spitting out. Allura has come to stand next to him, reading over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. 

The silence stretches on, and Keith can feel everyone growing more and more restless as they wait for some news, any news. 

He feels like he’s being suffocated. His stomach is churning nauseatingly and the urge to run is growing stronger. He digs his nails into his palms to try and ground himself, but his fists are starting to shake. He can’t help the quick glances he takes at Shiro. The black paladin is standing motionless with his arms folded over his chest, scowling at the floor. Only Keith knows it’s an expression to hide what must be immense worry, if the tightness of his jaw and straining muscles are anything to judge by. _Everyone_ looks worried, and scared. 

He can’t stand watching this, knowing he caused all of it. If Pidge won’t be able to walk again…

“Okay,” Coran says at long last. Everyone goes rigid. “I’m fairly certain I know what the problem is, but I’m going to do an internal scan to confirm it. Pidge, could you lie down on your stomach?”

Shiro is instantly at Pidge’s side, helping her lower herself gently down on the table and roll over onto her stomach. His touches are light and careful, as if she’s made of glass. Keith is sure she’ll be bothered by that later, but at the moment she looks too scared to worry about it. 

Coran lowers the arm of a device hanging over the cot and positions it over Pidge’s back. He proceeds to flip a switch with his thumb, and a blue ray of light is emitted. It scans the entire length of her body three times up and down before beeping and shutting off, and Coran moves around to the screen to see the results. Allura is by his side immediately. The expressions that come over their features are different, but neither one is good—Coran wilts, letting his eyes close in grim resignation, and Allura’s eyes widen in dismay. 

No one dares to breathe. 

“The pod didn’t make a mistake,” Coran tells them. “It healed Pidge’s spine, but… There’s some damage even our technology can’t fix. It looks like it couldn’t repair the nerves that were affected. Pidge…” He looks to the green paladin, a deep sadness welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but it appears that this injury is permanent.”

There’s a shocked silence. Again. 

“Permanent…?” Shiro says, sounding utterly dumbfounded. He takes a step towards Coran, looking angry and stunned and heartbroken all at the same time. “No. _No_ , there has to be something you can do. You have all this amazing technology—surely, there’s some way to—”

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” Coran looks every bit as heartbroken. “If there was some way to fix this, I would. We can try physical therapy, but even that most likely won’t get Pidge completely back to normal. I’m—I’m so sorry.”

Keith has never seen such strong emotion on Shiro’s face before. Without warning, he flings out his cybernetic arm and slams his fist hard into the wall. Everyone flinches at loud crack. And then they watch as their leader storms out of the room, leaving fearful faces and a dented pillar in his wake. 

Pidge’s small, frightened voice sounds loud in the thick silence. “So I’m…I’m not going to be able to walk again?”

Whatever daze Keith had fallen into during Shiro’s outburst is broken when she speaks. He takes one look at her expression—wide-eyed, confused, _devastated_ —and he has to get out of there. 

He spins on his heel and runs out of the room, heading towards the only place he can find any comfort. Lance and Hunk call after him, but he hardly hears. He can’t stand to be there for a second longer. 

He did this. 

Shiro’s going to blame him. 

Pidge is going to hate him—they’re _all_ going to hate him. He hates himself. 

He doesn’t feel any better once he has his blade in his hand and is raining blows down on the training bot. He pours every ounce of emotion he has in him into his fighting—all the rage, the disbelief, the guilt, the regret. All of it manifests in relentless swings and thrusts and stabs. A feral growl tears out of his throat and doesn’t stop as he fights and fights and _fights_ like it’ll fix anything. Like he can undo everything he’s ever done wrong by beating the shit out of this dummy. 

He doesn’t know how long this goes on. Time is lost a red-tinted blur of anger and hatred and guilt. The burn in his muscles isn’t enough. The feeling of landing hit after hit on the bot isn’t enough. Yelling and cursing and sweating and crying and bleeding _isn’t enough_. 

Pidge is his family. This is the first time in a long, long time that he’s had other people to care about, that care for him back, and he did this to them. 

Not long ago, he might not have been nearly this upset. He might have told himself and everyone else that it wasn’t his fault, that Pidge was to blame for knocking him out of the way like that. A large part of him still wants to argue this—it’s true, after all. He hadn’t forced her to save him. 

But she did it because she cares enough about him to put his safety before her own. And in a way, isn’t that his fault too? 

Maybe this whole paladin thing was a bad idea from the start. Destiny or whatever has never been something he believed in, and now he’s seeing the foolishness of getting caught up in it. None of them have any experience with war or fighting—not really. They’re in over their heads here. And now one of them has been permanently injured because he wasn’t good enough.

His swings begin to lose strength as his rage starts fading, melting into something that feels an awful lot like despair. That’s when the tears come, sudden and unbidden. His vision blurs and a weakness overcomes him, bringing him to his knees. His bayard reverts as he goes still and the fight drains out of him quickly. He doesn’t bother to call for the training sequence to end—he still isn’t sure if the bot will kill him or not, but right now he doesn’t care. It approaches him quickly, raising its weapon, and Keith closes his eyes to wait, to let whatever happens happen. 

He doesn’t expect a voice on the other side of the deck to call off the dummy. A pair of footfalls approaches him quickly, but he doesn’t look up.

“Keith?” 

It’s Shiro. 

There’s a sickening, sinking feeling in the pit of Keith’s stomach. He doesn’t want to face his leader right now. 

“Keith.” 

He finally opens his eyes. Familiar black boots come to a stop by his knees, by the little droplets of moisture that fall onto the mat. Shiro drops into a squat. Keith still can’t look up. 

“Are you alright?” Shiro asks. Keith expected his voice to be cold, accusing, and bitter, but instead it sounds…surprisingly warm and concerned. Somehow that’s worse.

He bites his lip and turns his head away. 

“Keith, look at me.”

Ever since they became paladins, Keith has seen two different sides of Shiro. Sometimes he sees him as the doting, affectionate older brother figure he’s always known, and sometimes he’s the leader and superior officer that Keith knows to respect. While Shiro has never treated him as a subordinate or ordered him around, there’s always been that unspoken understanding that he is in charge here and Keith needs to obey his commands. It’s a strange duality. 

Right now, however, Shiro is exuding nothing but brotherly concern. So Keith looks up. 

Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder. “This wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re feeling, but you have nothing to blame yourself for. You made a quick decision—that’s something you have to do a lot during battle, you know that. Whether that decision was right or wrong doesn’t matter. What matters is that you did the best you knew how. Pidge made her own decision to protect you. What happened was something that couldn’t be helped by either one of you.”

Keith chokes. “You—you would have done the right thing. If it had been you instead of me, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“You don’t know that.” Shiro’s voice grows lower and his grip tightens. “I don’t think I would have been able to do any better than you in that situation.” A look of deep fatigue comes over him then. “I know a thing or two about guilt and self-blame, and, Keith, listen to me. I don’t want you beating yourself up for this. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for sending the two of you in there alone.”

Keith’s eyes snap up quickly. “Shiro— _no._ We told you we could do it. You didn’t make a bad call.”

Shiro sighs wearily. “In any case, you can’t blame yourself for this. It was just an unfortunate set of circumstances.” 

“But Pidge—” Keith’s heart squeezes in his chest. “She’s the one who’s taking the brunt of all this. What if she blames me?”

“She won’t. Pidge isn’t like that.” 

“But what if she does? I don’t know if I can act normally around her anymore, knowing that—” He cuts himself off, bites his lip. The very thought of facing Pidge now makes him feel ill.

“Talk to her,” Shiro says. 

Keith shakes his head. “Shiro, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I was just with her. She wants to see you.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

He can’t. He can’t look her in the eye knowing what he did—what she did for him, and what it cost her. 

“We’ll get through this, Keith, I promise. These kinds of things…they’re just going to happen. We’re in the middle of a war. We all know what we’re risking every time we suit up, and Pidge is no exception.” Shiro gives his shoulder another squeeze. “Go talk to her.”

Reluctantly, Keith nods. 

When he leaves the room, he walks in the opposite direction of the med bay, to a place where he knows he can curl up and not be disturbed.

 

—

 

He avoids Pidge for the next week. He avoids Shiro, too, because he doesn’t want another talk about why he should talk to Pidge. Really, he avoids everyone, even though he’s less inclined to run when Hunk or Lance is around. He’s sure it’s obvious how careful he is never to be in the same room as Pidge unless there are at least two other people present. He knows that Shiro is keenly aware of how he ducks out when it looks like they might be alone. 

He expected Lance’s teasing about how much of a shut-in he is to increase, but, oddly enough, the teasing in general decreases. Keith doesn’t know what to do with this. He doesn’t know how to handle a Lance that isn’t poking fun at him or challenging him on everything or trying to get any rise out of him that he can. The taunting is still there to a degree, because it seems to be the entire basis of their relationship, but it’s like Lance has lost most of his motivation to get under Keith’s skin. And honestly, the excessive teasing would be a lot easier to deal with than this strange… _lack_ of it.

He’s sensitive to the concerned and even sympathetic looks he gets from his teammates. He doesn’t deserve anything from them but disapproval. He needs to be better. 

So he trains. He puts his all into the battles they fight, and when they’re not fighting, he’s bettering himself so that next time he has a responsibility to protect a teammate, he won’t fail. 

Pidge is in a wheelchair. Well, a _hover_ chair, to be more accurate. Allura insisted she take it, to get around. It’s a comfortable-looking chair surround by two antigrav rings and is surprisingly maneuverable. Pidge seems to have a good time gliding around in it. Keith’s heard from Hunk that they’re starting to try some therapy with her to see if she’ll regain better use of her legs. Both Lance and Hunk seem hopeful that she’ll be able to walk again, even if it’s with crutches. 

As much as Keith wants to be kept up-to-date, it still makes him sick to hear about. Every time he sees her in that chair, the need to atone for his mistake grows and the fact that he _can’t_ is driving him insane. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to bring himself to talk to her. He doesn’t deserve that much.

Everyone has been trying to corner him recently. Lance comes to spar when he’s on the training deck, but he’s not really there to train.

“You okay, man?” he says as he sets up a punching bag next to Keith’s. 

“Yeah.” Keith doesn’t even spare him a glance, trying to appear solely focused on his punches. “I’m fine.”

“Haven’t seen you at meals lately.” Keith hates the undertone of concern in the blue paladin’s voice. 

“I’m eating, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Yeah, it’s just… We—uh, the others miss hanging out with you, y’know? You haven’t been around much.”

His attempt at being subtle might be amusing under different circumstances. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothin.’” Lance wraps his hands and squares up to the bag. “Nothin.’ Everyone’s just been sayin’ how they miss you being around. I think Shiro’s gonna make us do another mind meld thing just to get everyone together.”

Keith’s stomach flips at that implication. “It’s fine,” he says, feeling a bead of sweat slide down the side of his face. “I’ve just been training. I don’t have time to pal around with you guys.”

“Okay.” That’s when Lance gives up the pretense of practicing punches (it didn’t take long, Keith notes), and instead positions himself to lean against Keith’s punching bag. “That’s the biggest bunch of BS I’ve ever heard. Really, dude, what’s going on with you? It’s not a secret that you’ve been avoiding us. And you’re really starting to hurt Hunk and Pidge’s feelings.”

This makes Keith pause to stare at him in disbelief for a moment to make sure he’s not joking around. He’s met with nothing but sincerity and an uncharacteristic solemness under which he actually finds himself wilting a little. He averts his eyes and goes back to hitting the bag. “Pidge doesn’t want to see me.”

“Is that what you think?” 

“Why would she, Lance?”

“Uh, because you’re her friend? She cares about you?”

“I don’t understand how she could. Not after—” Keith cuts himself off. He hasn’t talked about his guilt aloud since his chat with Shiro the day they found out, and isn’t keen on breaking that streak right now.

Lance blinks at him. “Wait, do you think—do you think Pidge is mad about what happened?”

The way he says it makes it sound like the notion is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Keith is confused. “Are you saying she’s not?”

Lance looks just as confused. “N— _dude_ , no! She thinks you’re mad at _her_.”

They both must be in one big bewildered mess. “Wh… Why would she think that? She’s the one who—”

“What is she supposed to think?” Lance takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips. “You haven’t so much as looked her in the eye for three days, and you run like a scared cat whenever she’s in the room. Really, man, I knew your social skills were bad but I didn’t know they sucked _this much_.”

Keith can only stare. That can’t be right… Can it? He was so sure Pidge had no desire to be around him, that she hates him as much as he hates himself. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs. “I’m the reason she’s…”

“You need to talk to her.” Lance’s face is strangely soft and somewhat urgent. “For both of your sakes. If this goes on much longer I think Shiro’s gonna lock you guys in a room until you can work it out. You know how big he and Allura are on teamwork.”

Keith gives a soft grunt in reply. Logically, he knows this can’t go on for much longer, but that doesn’t do a thing to motivate him to fix it. 

“It’s been kind of a strain on all of us, y’know?” Lance eyes drop to the floor. “If one person’s down, everyone is. We can’t… We’re too close now not to be affected when one of us is having problems. It’s been hard enough with Pidge being—” He takes a shuddering breath, then, and for a fleeting second Keith wonders if he’s actually holding back tears. But then he seems to shake it off and looks at Keith once more. “Anyway, just know that this has been tough for all of us, not just you and Pidge. We’re a family; we’re supposed to bear each other’s burdens.”

Keith’s eyes widen at that. Since when has Lance been capable of spouting off wise (if not a bit clichéd) shit like this? He doesn’t look embarrassed about it, though, or like he wants to take it back. He meets Keith’s stunned expression with a hard, level one of his own, like he’s daring him to tease him for saying something so deep. 

Surprisingly, Keith doesn’t even think about teasing him. The atmosphere and the topic at hand are far too heavy for that. Instead he merely nods once to show he understands—and he does, really. He knows it’s been selfish of him to let this go on for so long. The whole team is straining under the weight of what happened. 

But is it really so easily fixed? 

“ _Talk_ ,” Lance says again. “The most important part of teamwork is communication. That’s what Shiro always says, you know?”

_Well, fuck me,_ Keith thinks with a tinge of dark humor. He never would have guessed that Lance would be the one to finally lecture him on this again. 

“Yeah,” he says, though he doesn’t really know if he’s agreeing to act on this conversation or if he’s simply agreeing with the statement. 

The blue paladin pats him on the shoulder twice, and then saunters off the deck without another word. 

Keith is left with a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. He doesn’t know if he likes this oddly deep, wise side of Lance. 

 

—

 

Another week passes, and he still can’t bring himself to face Pidge. He thinks long and hard about his conversation with Lance. He knows his teammate is right—as weird as that is to come to terms with—but it doesn’t make him feel any less apprehensive. How can it, knowing that his mistake has changed her life forever? How can anyone even _begin_ to apologize for something like that?

He groans miserably, leaning over to grip his hair with his fists. He’d been trying to clean his knife in the privacy of his own room, but these thoughts refuse to quiet and he’s really beginning to think he truly is going crazy. He can’t stand the guilt much longer. Everyone seems to be getting over the mourning stage of this tragedy (not that he would really know, since he hasn’t exactly been around), and sooner or later, he knows he’s going to have to move on too, out of mere necessity if nothing else. They’re still fighting in a war. The Galra aren’t going to give them a break just because they’re dealing with something so devastating. One way or another, something’s got to give.

Then, as if in response to this thought, there’s a soft knock on his door.

He closes his eyes, in grim resignation more than anything. It could be anyone, but it’s probably Shiro coming to tell him it’s time to get his head back in the game. He’s been waiting for this. He doesn’t think he’s mentally ready, but will he ever be? Better to get it over with.

“Come in,” he says after a few moments of silence. 

When the door slides open, it’s not Shiro who’s standing behind it. It’s Pidge.

Keith’s blood turns to ice.

She’s in the chair, dressed like she usually is. There are two mice in her lap and one on her shoulder and Keith would never have been able to tell she’d been so badly injured recently if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s not on her own two feet.

He chokes on any greeting that might have rested on his lips. His mouth is suddenly dry and his mind is both blank and so full of thoughts that he can’t pick one out.

“Hi, Keith,” she says quietly, and it’s so, so strange to hear her speaking in anything but a confident tone. That’s all he’s ever known from her. She always seems to know what she’s talking about despite being their youngest. But now she’s exuding apprehension, speaking like she’s so unsure of herself, unsure of _him_. She has every reason to be. 

“…Hi,” he’s finally able to say.

Her brow is furrowed and she looks a little pale as she averts her eyes from his gaze, choosing instead to look down at the mice in her lap. “Um… Can we talk?”

A flood of differing emotions rushes through Keith then—guilt (always, _always_ guilt) about everything that has happened, frustration at his own inability to fix it, relief that she’s taking the first step to breaching this gap between them, disappointment that he couldn’t do it himself. Many other things, too, but he’s too exhausted to sort through them.

For now, he tries to push them aside. He feels like he can’t breathe as it is. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Come on in.” He moves aside so she can move the chair through the doorway and takes a seat on the edge of his bed again. 

The mice, probably sensing the suffocatingly heavy atmosphere, scamper down from the chair and are out the door before it hisses shut. 

Keith sweats where he sits, and decides to start wrapping up his knife again, slowly, to give himself an excuse not to look up.

But he can see Pidge fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, obviously uncomfortable. After a moment of tense silence, she finally stills her hands and looks at him squarely. “Look, I’m just gonna get straight to the point, because this is getting a little ridiculous. Why have you been avoiding me since the mission?”

Keith’s hands clench on his blankets. His mind races to come up with a suitable answer, but he can’t think of anything. Instead of replying, he sighs in frustration and lets the silence stretch on.

“Are you upset with me?” There’s mounting frustration in her voice. “Did I do something to make you mad? If it’s about the mission—”

“I’m not upset with you,” Keith finally snaps. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you acting like I have the plague?” 

He pulls his lip under his teeth. _Just tell her. Spill everything, right now._ He wishes it was that easy. Talking to people about his deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings is just far too difficult. He rubs his thumb over the hilt of his knife, pressing hard, reaching desperately for the words he knows he needs to say. But he still comes up empty. 

Pidge frowns. Her face slowly darkens with anger, and something else that might be guilt. Or defeat. The lenses of her glasses glint in the lamplight as she lowers her head to stare at her hands. “I’m sorry, okay? I made a mess of everything. I’m not good at fighting like you are and I guess I’m—I guess I’m useless now. I can’t help you form Voltron anymore. I can’t be a paladin. I’m just gonna be a burden to you guys—”

“ _Shut up, Pidge_.” The words come out much sharper than Keith intended, and he’s immediately stabbed with guilt when he sees her eyes widen in shock and hurt. He drops the knife to reach out instinctively with one hand. “God, I mean—that’s not—I didn’t mean—” He growls in frustration and balls up his fist to pound against his forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just—you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m…I’m just angry at myself.”

Her features soften a little, the anger starting to drain away, but she still looks confused. “Keith… What’s wrong? Something’s been bothering you lately. I thought it was me.”

“It’s not,” Keith’s quick to say. “Not… _directly_ , anyway. I’m just… The whole mission, everything. I’m just having a hard time dealing with it.” Which is the understatement of the decafeeb. His palms are sweating in his fingerless gloves and he rubs them needlessly on his thighs. He really, _really_ does not want to be having this conversation right now. The words he knows he needs to say are on the tip of his tongue, and he doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to get them out. 

“Just talk to me, Keith,” Pidge says. “Please. I don’t know if you’ve talked to anyone else before now, but it’s time we worked this out. We can’t move on until we do.”

Keith is quiet for a long time, staring at the floor between his feet and working his lip between his teeth. Pidge waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts, and the faint sound of recycled air being pushed through the vents is the only thing to fill the silence between them. 

Finally, he draws in a large breath. “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

She stiffens. “For what?”

“Everything.” He subconsciously bows his head a little. “It’s my fault that you got hurt. I was reckless and stupid, and I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry that this happened. I—I should be the one in that chair. Not you. Everyone is upset that this happened to you, and it’s my fault. I can’t—” He pulls in another breath that shudders slightly. “I can’t make it up to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s Pidge’s turn to be silent, then. When he dares to steal a glance at her face, she looks stunned. And then, slowly, the expression hardens into anger once more. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. If I hadn’t been your partner—”

“ _Don’t._ ” Pidge glares. “I never once thought about blaming you. This—” She gestures at the chair, her legs, “—is because of the decision _I_ made. And I don’t regret it. I don’t regret saving you, and I wish you’d quit acting like it shouldn’t’ve happened.”

Keith blinks. “Are you saying—you’re not upset about it?”

“Of _course_ I’m upset.” Her face begins to crumple a little. “I can’t _walk_ anymore, Keith. Hunk and Coran and I are starting to look into building some kind of prosthetics, but there are so many factors and limitations I don’t know how well it’ll work even if we _can_ build them. I can’t fight, I can’t pilot Green—Shiro won’t even let me out of the castle. I never thought something like this might happen.” She seems to shrink into herself, somehow becoming even tinier. The tears that well in her eyes are like a punch to Keith’s gut. “I _needed_ my legs. When we find Matt and my dad… I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t help them.”

The breath whooshes out of Keith’s lungs as his chest caves in on itself. Almost on its own accord, his arm reaches out toward her. He doesn’t know why—he’s never been touchy, or reassuring for that matter—but his hand stretches for Pidge’s shoulder. 

She knocks it away. “But not for one second have I ever regretted the decision I made.” The fierceness returns to her voice, and that admirable strength Keith has seen in her many times comes shining through her amber eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Keith. Sure, none of us wanted this to happen, but it did and we can’t change it. Nothing you do or say or feel will change anything. It sucks—I _know_ it sucks—but the only thing we can do now is keep fighting. If you still want to make it up to me, that’s how.”

For several long, drawn-out beats, Keith can only stare at her as the words process in his mind. For days, now, he’s been so sure that Pidge hated him—that the entire team hated him for his inadequacy, for what he allowed to happen. Pidge is telling him the same things that he’s heard twice before already, but coming from her… He’s starting to feel lighter than he has in weeks. 

He huffs out a soft laugh. “You sound like Shiro.”

Pidge gives a small smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.” Then she reaches out, a bit hesitantly and awkwardly, and places a small hand on Keith’s knee. “Listen. I know this isn’t something that can be fixed overnight. But please, don’t keep shutting everyone out. We all want to help you. We’re a team, you know? We have to get through this as a team. No one wants to see you beating yourself up over something you couldn’t control.”

When Keith breathes in deeply and lets it out, the knot that’s been tangling up tighter and tighter in his stomach seems to finally loosen a bit. He nods. It’s going to be a process, healing from this, but maybe this is the beginning of it. 

There’s still one more thing he has to say. “You forgive me?”

Pidge gives his knee a light pat before drawing her hand back. “There’s nothing to forgive. But if it helps, yes. I do.”

He nods again. “Thank you.”

“Forgive yourself, too, okay?”

“…Right.” That might take a little longer, but if Pidge wants him too, he’ll work on it. 

“I know I’m not the first person anyone goes to for advice or anything,” she says, scratching her with an index finger, “but if you ever want to talk any more…I’m here. Okay?”

“Sure.” He smiles for the first time in two weeks. It’s a sad excuse for a smile, but it’s there nonetheless. “And if you ever need help with—well, anything, I’m here too.”

“Good.” Pidge returns the sad smile. “Thanks, Keith.”

And then, suddenly, there’s nothing left to say. It feels strange. Things aren’t magically fixed, but now there isn’t anything left to keep bottled up and Keith doesn’t quite know what to do with the sensation. It’s freeing in a way that makes him wonder why he’d kept his feelings inside for so long. 

Things are just starting to slide back into awkward when Coran’s voice comes over the castle’s intercom. “Dinner’s ready, paladins!” 

Pidge gives him a sly grin. “Race you.” Before Keith has time to react, she’s zipped through the door and down the hallway, the pulsing hum of the chair fading in the distance. 

“Hey—!” He scrambles up and out, swinging himself into the corridor with one hand on the doorframe. And then he’s running, chasing after her recklessly, and they’re both _laughing._

He never would have thought he’d be in this position just that morning. It gives him a little hope that this storm will pass with time. How much time, he couldn’t begin to guess. But they’ll be okay. They’re a family. 

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know if keith would actually react like this in canon. he seems to be pretty utilitarian in his thinking most of the time and i feel like self-blame is more up lance’s and shiro’s alleys, but this is how the fic happened to pan out, and i really wanted to explore keith and pidge's relationship as siblings. it was an interesting study, regardless.
> 
> in case anyone is wondering, the beam was made of a lighter weight material than metal and had already partially collapsed before it fell on pidge, which is why she wasn’t completely crushed. 
> 
> and the chair pidge uses is actually the one that allura uses in issue 3 of the comics. i’ve always wanted to incorporate it into a fic as an altean wheelchair alternative :-)
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
